One Bridge You Mustn't Burn

It may not seem like it, but when you get married, you start building something.  You and your spouse are co-creators of an entity.  You can call it a family, a business, a home, or a combination of these and other things.  It's a positive thing, to be sure.  But it can become large and burdensome over time, if it's not constantly infused with warmth.

Perhaps the married couple buy a home.  Almost immediately, each member begins fulfilling responsibilities around the home.  From sweeping the front porch to paying the bills, there are dozens of responsibilities that must be constantly take care of.  Add children to this, and you add the instant potential for being overwhelmed on a regular basis.

Again, this is a positive position to be in, but it's no small matter.  You've got to communicate to keep this baby intact (pun intended).  Even when you don't have the time and means to be thorough, you must be crystal clear.  This is Houston transmitting to Mars.  You often can't even shake hands, but you have to share control of a ship that must be steered with pinpoint accuracy.  The lines of communication must always be open - day and night.

Those lines must also always be drawn tight.  For they support the entire operation.  Like a sturdy bridge over an unnavigable river - constantly exposed to the elements - the builders of the family must provide safe passage for their own without ever letting go of their partner.

And to you, single parents, I remain in awe.  You have secured the help to shoulder the whole load, only when you must.  You return, then, always to bear the whole weight of the operation again and again.  I'm becoming familiar with the true strength of love, but this still baffles and uplifts me.

Remember, there's no subject too big or too small.  And no issue is ever off the table.

Screw Your Agenda

Look, I'm a baby.  I have a very simple agenda.  It involves being fed by you, held by you, entertained by you, and basically just constantly focused on by you. All that other stuff, such as changing my diapers, bathing me, relentlessly inspecting every last nook and cranny of my adorable little body,  I just let you do that to pass the time.  And as far as dressing me goes, that is nothing more than a gift - reluctantly given - from me to you.  Frankly, I don't understand the big deal with clothes.  What's the point?  You put them on, I spit up on them, you wash them, then you magically produce another clean onesie.  I know where my food comes from, but I don't have a name for it.  I just think of it as the milk bar below your face.  If you don't have a milk bar, then you're lucky if I do so much as fall asleep on you.  Let's get something else straight.  I don't know what you're saying.  I hear sounds coming out of you, but they just go up and down and let me know if you're happy or frustrated with me.  Mainly your words get my attention and make me think you're going to feed me.  And when it turns out that you're not going to feed me, I'm allowed to yell at you, or - in my case - cry at you.  I'm even allowed to carry on in the loudest, most piercing tone, when I have absolutely no idea what it is that I want or need.  I just know i'm not currently satisfied.  Please don't explain that I'm just tired, I'm very busy being mad at something I can't identify.  And ultimately -  while I do prefer to be with you - I don't really care about you.  I can't.  I have no capacity for sympathy.  But I do love you.  And, more importantly, I allow you to love me. :-)

One more thing:  I have no understanding of sleep.  While I do fall asleep a lot, I have no idea that I need it.  And I'm not aware of you sleeping at all.  This means I have zero concern or even curiosity when it comes to your sleeping requirements.  You are always there for me - so I can't conceive of you even resting (or what rest is, for that matter).  If it's true that you do require sleep, I strongly recommend you sleep every time I do.  Otherwise you'll be passing out at inopportune times throughout the day, only to be woken up by my piercing cry.  I'd say that's a promise, but I don't know what that means.

Now remind me again - what is EVERY SINGLE THING?

Car Wash, Baby!

I saw a guy washing his car in his driveway, and I thought - I used to do that.  Then I had a baby. Then, I had two more babies.  Sometimes we drive through a car wash.  Mostly, we just wash the kids and let the rain wash the car.  Sometimes we let the rain wash the kids.  That doesn't really work.  Know what else doesn't really work?  Not taking a nap every single time you get the chance.  Nap it up, baby!  That's my advice.  Now if only I can convince myself to take my own advice.

Sorry - My Hands Are Full...

You know what I like? -  holding a baby.  Other than the obvious reasons, I've come to really enjoy the freedom that comes with holding a baby.  I'm referring, of course to the freedom from having to actually do anything other than stand there cradling the child,  - It's truly the most wonderful thing!  You're literally obliged to NOT lift a finger, since you're already doing your part, simply by holding a baby.  You're free from having to pick up anything that falls - even if you're the one who dropped it.  People open doors for you, they throw your trash out, some folks will even feed you.  Let's face it, your hands are occupied with a tiny person - you can't just put down a baby.  So go ahead, grab a baby, and start littering!

Note To Self

Dear Me,

I am writing this from the middle of a living room which is the opposite of tidy.  This is significant because I'm a total everything-in-it's-place kind of guy.  I mean this, not in a personality way, rather in an OCD way.  Netflix is filling the room with the sounds and colors of another kid's show (one of the many that my wife and I find acceptable. Yes, our kids watch many shows.)  At this moment, my wife is preparing for an upcoming class she's going to teach, while holding our two-month-old.  My five-year-old is playing a game on my iPod, one I myself haven't figured out.  My three-year-old is watching the tv.  Right now, I am not parenting.  I'm close-by and ready to help, but I'm doing nothing to contribute.  I have changed several diapers this morning - prepared, served, and cleaned up breakfast for our two older children, and spent time holding our baby.  I haven't had time to change out of my pjs yet, I've chosen to utilize free moments to dash to the bathroom.  But now I'm indulging myself too write this to you, because it's important that you hear it from someone who is a dad right now.

I just opened a new magazine to read.  My favorite magazine is National Geographic, and I just tore the wrapping off of this issue - dated September 2012.  This issue came with an insert about Mauna Kea - The world's tallest mountain (32,696ft from sea floor to summit).  I need to read every word on the insert, so I'll have to keep it out and available for whenever the opportunity arises.

My middle child is rubbing her pink elephant's leg along her eyebrow.  My oldest daughter's green bear is in their light blue to-go-upstairs bin.  I try to always know where the kids loveys (comforting stuffed animals) are.  When they need them, there's zero acceptable wait time.  I know which of their blankets they prefer and their likely vicinity.  I also know where my wife's essentials are most likely to be;  the phone, her cell phone, iPad mini, the four remotes, purse, wallet, coupon holder, water glass,...etc.  Etcetera is a lot of things from my point of view.  As a dad, "etcetera" is basically every single thing in your home.  This is no exaggeration because whenever you need something, you have no time allotted to look for it, only to get it.  Get it?

For example when I go to the bathroom, I rarely close the door.  I will be needed soon, if not immediately.  Time spent closing, and opening the bathroom door is a luxury.  Plus, I'll likely be visited while I'm in there, so I might as well save my visitor the trouble of having to open the door - though they're more than happy to do so.

This is a totally acceptable normal scenario for you/me right now.  Think of it as the Good
Old Days, - or - maybe as the days when you were raising your children instead of sleeping.  As for me, I wasn't really thinking about it until I wrote this down.  And I have to say, I'm afraid I might be coming off a tad kooky.  If so, please save this piece of writing as a documentation of my former sanity.

From this perspective, raising humans in your home 24 hours a day makes raising dinosaurs seem just a little risky and possibly annoying.

Hello, these are my pet dinosaurs:  Risky and Annoying.

Hi,  These are my children:  What are your names again?

Big Faker

These days, I've realized that I'm such a fake compared to my 3 month old son.  He neither dwells on the past nor invokes the future, his mind is literally never anywhere else.  Right now, this moment, that's all he considers.  Not only does he never lie, he doesn't even exaggerate - ever!  He communicates his feelings and desires the moment they happen.  He doesn't hold a grudge.  He never tries to manipulate anyone, and he's absolutely incapable of holding anything in.  This, of course, mainly includes hiccups, burps, toots, pee, and his own personal version of poop - currently a shade of mustard with the consistency of melted butter.  On the other hand, I hold almost everything in - and sometimes for quite a while!

Wow! - Have I got a lot to learn!

Modern Conveniences: Meet Baby!

Hey baby - why won't you let this mechanical thing put you to sleep?  We've strapped you safely in, and we set it to swing automatically back and forth at a comfortable medium speed.  We even turned the halfway decent music component on to play you a lullaby over and over and over.  We put a blanket on you and we  dimmed the lights.  We're close by across the room here.  Just because you're too cranky to open your eyes wide enough to see us and know we're here, doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to drift off to sleep.  Just because the plastic and metal machine with no warmth or heartbeat doesn't feel exactly like a body for you to melt into, doesn't mean you couldn't also doze off in exhaustion in your makeshift sleep space.  We worked hard to figure out which contraption we could purchase and plug in so that you could be gently and sweetly lulled off to dreamland by this modern convenience that was made in China and folds up to fit under our bed whenever you grow out of it.  So what exactly is the  reason you can't seem to accommodate our needs by being content while belted into this modern baby device and just falling asleep as if you were being cradled by a real person?  Go ahead, you can tell us.  Just make it snappy, we have to update our Facebook status, compose an eye-catching Tweet, send a pic of you out over Instagram and then get busy writing on our blogs...